She jerked her face away from his hand. ‘Then what shall you do with me?’
His eyes flickered over her as if he could see through all of her clothing, and brought a hot blush to her cheeks. ‘What would you like me to do?’
She blushed all the harder, angry at herself that he could have such an effect on her. ‘Release me. Let me go free.’
He smiled in that same dangerous way, and she thought again of Wolf.
‘Persuasive though you are, Rosalind, I fear I must fulfil my destiny and deliver you to Evedon. And then there is the small matter of Mr Wolversley and the trouble he has caused me.’ His eyes glittered, and his face, in the shadows, was as harsh as Wolf’s.
Her heart seemed to stop before kicking suddenly to a frenzy. ‘You have no quarrel with Wolf.’
‘Only over you.’
‘No, I beg of you, sir, do not hurt him.’
She saw Beshaley’s expression change, saw the surprise in his eyes. ‘You care for him,’ he said as if stumbling across the discovery.
She looked him directly in the eye, unafraid, unashamed, ‘I love him.’
‘Have you forgotten that Wolf is the villain that caught you? He is a bastard, shunned by all Society.’ And she thought she caught the whisper, ‘Like me.’
‘A bastard maybe,’ she said, ‘but a finer man I have never known. The whole world might shun him and it would still make no difference.’
‘Kempster was right. Wolf did bed you.’
She held her head high. ‘I am not ashamed of loving him. I will go with you to Evedon, sir, on the condition that you stay away from Wolf.’
‘You are coming with me regardless.’
‘I could make this very difficult for you, Mr Beshaley.’
He laughed and produced the pistol from his pocket. ‘I do not think so, Miss Wardale.’
‘Then you think wrongly, sir.’ She looked at him, and now the fear was back with her, not for anything that he could do to her, but rather for what he might do to Wolf. And no matter how strong, how fast, how able Wolf was, she knew that he and Beshaley were too alike and she feared for what Beshaley could do to him. So she reached out her hand and closed it gently over the muzzle of the pistol.
Beshaley’s eyes registered his surprise. ‘My, but you must truly have a care for your thief-taker.’
She said nothing, just stared at him with more determination than she had ever felt in her life and kept her hand steady where it was.
‘He is a bastard, a man from the streets, who has carved his own path through this world. A man cast out from Society,’ he said.
‘He is all of these things, and still a giant amongst the men who would condemn him. He is a good man, sir. There is none better.’
‘Make no mistake, Miss Wardale, if I fire this pistol you will die. Your hand will not stopper the ball. Do you understand that?’
‘I understand it perfectly.’
‘And yet if I say that I will not pursue my grievance with Wolf then you will accompany me willingly to Evedon?’
‘If I have your word on Wolf’s safety,’ she said.
‘My word?’ His brow raised as if he could not believe that she would value such a thing.
‘Your word, sir,’ she said firmly.
‘You would give yourself up to Evedon. You would even risk me shooting you dead. And all for this Wolf of yours.’
‘Yes, I would.’
Beshaley was staring at her, and something of the hardness had gone from his face. He uncocked the pistol, drew it back from her hand and slipped it once more into his pocket. Then he reached up and banged his cane on the ceiling and the carriage drew to a stop. He drew the curtain briefly aside and dropping down the window shouted an instruction up to the coachman. The carriage rolled on, but Beshaley no longer spoke. He was staring ahead in the gloom as if he no longer noticed that she was there; despite everything, there was such a sadness about him, a weariness, that Rosalind could almost feel sorry for him.
Eventually the carriage came to a stop, and the door was opened by the small swarthy man that had helped Rosalind into the carriage. Outside did not look to be the steps of Evedon House. She craned her head and saw the front of Bruton Street. Her heart rate quickened.
The brightness of the daylight flooded the carriage interior, showing Beshaley’s features in stark detail.
‘Your part in this is over. Fate is a cruel mistress, leading us down a path we would not choose to take, and all in the name of vengeance.’
Vengeance. It lay at the heart of this man’s endeavours and of Wolf’s.
Out in the street the sun was bright.
Beshaley gestured outside, and there coming out of the front door of the house was Wolf. Rosalind heard the door slam. Her heart skipped a beat. Butterflies flocked in her stomach. She moved towards the carriage door, then hesitated and stared round at Beshaley suddenly wary that this was some kind of a trick.
‘Go. For what it is worth, Rosalind, I would that you were not William Wardale’s daughter.’ He smiled, and in the darkness of his eyes was the pain she had seen before. ‘Go to your thief-taker,’ he said.
Wolf was running down the steps towards her as she stepped down into the sunshine. And then she was running to him, and she was in his arms.
He swung her round behind him, pulling a pistol from his pocket as he turned to face the carriage once more. Rosalind saw his intent and grabbed at his hand.
‘No! Let him go. Please, Wolf. He did not hurt me.’
Wolf’s aim was knocked askew.
The carriage door thudded shut and the black curtain was drawn back from its window. Stephano Beshaley looked directly at Wolf and drew him a salute as if they were brother warriors. Then the carriage was gone, leaving Rosalind and Wolf standing alone on the steps to Bruton Street.
He made the pistol safe, then dropped it into his pocket before turning to her, and pulling her into his arms. ‘Thank God, you are safe,’ he said and crushed her to him. ‘Thank God,’ he said again, and buried his face in her hair. ‘I thought that he…’ His words were so quiet as to scarce be above a whisper. ‘I thought…’ But again he could not say the words.
‘I am safe, Wolf. Unharmed.’
He drew back enough to look into her face. ‘He did nothing to hurt you?’
‘No. He intended to take me to Evedon.’
‘Yet he brought you here, to your sister.’
‘He brought me to you, Wolf.’
She saw the flicker in the tense line of his jaw at her words. And the concern that filled his eyes.
‘Then what is his game? Rosalind, he is Framlingham’s bastard son.’
‘I know who he is, Wolf.’
‘He is seeking vengeance.’
She shook her head. ‘He sees himself as the hand of fate, seeking redress for past injustices. We all face the consequences of our father’s actions, Wolf, however unfair it may be.’ She smiled wryly and took his hands in hers.
‘I am so sorry, Rosalind.’
The sun shone lights through the fairness of his hair that ruffled softly in the breeze. His face was strong and handsome, his jaw clenched with emotion.
‘Sorry for what? For saving my life? For breaking my heart?’
He winced.
‘Were it your father the murderer, Wolf, I would love you just the same. The sins are those of the father, not the son…or the daughter.’
‘Rosalind,’ He stared down into her face. ‘You think that I let you go because of what your father did?’
‘Why else?’
‘You were raised as an earl’s daughter, and I as a whore’s bastard.’
‘Will you make us both suffer for it for ever? You and Beshaley are not so dissimilar, after all.’
His jaw clenched tighter and she saw the shock and hurt and realization in his eyes. He was staring at her with such intensity as if he could see into her very soul. ‘Would you marry a damned fool?’ he asked.
Her gaze held his. ‘I mig
ht if he were to ask me.’
‘Marry me, Rosalind.’
‘Are you going to change your mind this time?’
‘Never.’
‘Then, yes, I will marry you, Wolf.’
He laughed, and slid his arms around her, and kissed her in such a way that she could not doubt his love.
‘We had better go in and tell Nell and Marcus.’
Wolf grinned. ‘I think they might already know.’ He glanced towards the house.
Rosalind followed his gaze to see Nell and Marcus standing by the window of the study. Nell was smiling broadly while Marcus’s face held an expression of shock.
Wolf smiled, and kissed her again. ‘Just for good measure,’ he said, ‘so that they will understand the need for a hasty wedding.’
Rosalind and Wolf were married five days later by special licence in a quiet ceremony in Wolf’s grand house. The guest list was short: Nell and Marcus and baby William, Struan Campbell and, Wolf’s wedding gift to Rosalind— Nathan and his wife, Diana. A family reunited once more. A love found for ever. Tears of joy escaped her cheeks as Wolf slid the gold band on to her finger and her heart welled with love for this man who was now her husband.
And afterwards, when everyone had gone and they were alone on a shabby chair in the snug comfort of Wolf’s den, there was one small question that still lay unanswered at the back of her mind.
‘I was wondering, Wolf,’ she said.
‘Mmh?’ he murmured as he kissed the tender skin at the nape of her neck. ‘About Evedon.’
He raised his face from his nuzzling. ‘Evedon shall not trouble us again. I promise you that, Rosalind. You need think of him no more.’
‘But how can you be so certain?’ She wriggled round on his lap to face him. ‘He has the letter. We have no means to prevent whatever he might wish to do.’
He shook his head. ‘Sweet Rosalind,’ he whispered, and stroked a gentle finger to her cheek. ‘There is something I have not told you, something that perhaps I should have before I asked you to be my wife.’
He felt her body still and tense beneath his hands, afraid of what he would tell her.
‘Evedon will keep his word because…’ he hesitated, ‘because he is my brother,’ he finished.
‘Your brother?’ Her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. ‘But how can that be?’
‘The letter that you took from Evedon named Robert Veryan, Viscount Keddinton, as Evedon’s true father. Keddinton cuckolded Evedon’s father. And it was Keddinton who seduced my mother and ruined her.’
Rosalind gasped. ‘Keddinton is your father?’
‘Unfortunately so,’ he said, but the bitterness and fury and shame that he normally felt on thinking of the man were no longer there. His love for Rosalind had rendered such feelings small and inconsequential. Her love had freed him from his past. ‘So Evedon will do nothing to stir up that hornet’s nest.’
‘You are right.’ Her expression was serious. ‘Wolf…’
He tensed, waiting for what she would say.
She smiled. ‘I still love you,’ and she plucked a small kiss from his lips.
‘As I love you, lass, as I love you.’
Down in Bruton Street, Nell and Marcus were snuggled together on the sofa in Nell’s little parlour.
‘I am so glad that Rosalind and Wolf are happy at last. He loves her very much you know.’
‘He does,’ said Marcus, and slid his arm around Nell’s shoulders. ‘I did not know what game he was playing initially. And upon first impressions he is…’ Marcus tried to find the right word to describe Wolf.
‘Rather excitingly dangerous,’ supplied his wife.
‘That is not exactly what I was going to say, but yes, he does have a dangerous wolfish presence about him.’ He smiled down at Nell. ‘But I think he will look after Rosalind very well indeed.’
They sat in silence for a little before Nell remarked, ‘I am glad that this business with Beshaley is over at last. At least Hal is safe from him over in Brussels.’
‘Safe fighting the French,’ said Marcus wryly.
‘Oh, you know what I mean; Beshaley cannot reach him there.’ She smiled. ‘Before I knew about Wolf, I had thought that I might make a match between Rosalind and Hal.’
‘You grow as bad as Mama. She despairs of Hal ever settling down with a nice girl. Indeed, I am afraid to confess that a nice girl is the last thing for which Hal is looking.’
‘Poor Hal,’ murmured Nell. ‘But at least I need worry no longer over Rosalind.’
‘Hurrah to that,’ said Marcus.
Nell raised her glass of lemonade and touched it with a small clink against Marcus’s snifter of brandy. ‘To Rosalind and Wolf, that they might know happiness like ours.’
‘To Rosalind and Wolf.’
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7496-3
UNLACING THE INNOCENT MISS
Copyright © 2010 by Margaret McPhee
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Unlacing the Innocent Miss Page 24